Devastated
by KaliTracer
Summary: A month isn't a long time. But, thirty-one days away from a lover, that felt much, much longer than a month. *slash


A/Ns:

This was suppose to be a simple, Tony/Clint fic. Then somehow it morphed into a-holy shit did I just write over 7,000 words about Tony essentially suffering through the almost death of his lover?!

*shakes head* I am updating Waiting for a Disaster soon, and From a Shell in the next week.

So enjoy this...or you know don't. I got nothin'.

There will be one main chapter and then an epilogue. This will not become multi-chapters. (I hope).

No best beta ever on this. Mistakes are mine.

* * *

A month isn't a long amount of time. Sometimes Tony Stark can lose himself in a project in February and what feels like a day later he's asking Jarvis what day it is and the answer is March something. He's gone longer than that before, lost in a booze induced haze, seducing his way through piles of women with a type of abandonment that seemed to almost eat time. It had been years almost in that kind of delusion.

So Tony knows one month is not long. But, thirty-one days away from a lover, _that_ felt much, much longer than a month.

It wasn't like Tony didn't realize when he started seducing-err dating Clint Barton, that he was still an agent of SHIELD, and a bit reckless, and a bit crazy, but hey, they were all a like that at least a little bit. He knew missions would still be a priority, that safety was only when they could hold each other, and that there would be times when Tony would feel like the arc reactor in his chest was the only thing keeping his heart beating.

But he didn't know that there would be times like _this_.

A month prior, had Tony sitting in his workshop, hips twitching along to some AC/DC while soldering an important piece back onto his Iron Man suit.

"Hey, babe?" came the hesitant call from the doorway, making Jarvis lower the volume of the music without being asked.

Looking up, Tony grinned, only to frown when he notices the duffel bag next to his lover's, Clint Barton, legs.

"Finally deciding to run off with Fury and live happily ever after?" Tony asked, liking the way it caused the SHIELD agent to shudder in disgust before shaking his head.

"Phil, he at least would come to bed without the lure of sex or food," he said, coming over to kiss Tony's mouth before he replied.

"Lies, Coulson would never be tempted by your fiendishly bad bedroom habits. How many towels did you use to shower today?" Tony kidded, hands immediately going to Clint's waist, gripping the muscle their in hopes that he would never have to let go.

"I distinctly recall picking up your underwear off the floor yesterday, it had a tear in them, should I be worried?" he asked, hands tracing patterns into the soft skin of Tony's neck.

"Part of the new armor disengaged in a way it wasn't supposed to. I'm fine, my clothes caught the majority of the scrape," Tony reassured. He refrained from mentioning the spectacular bruise on his ass, while impressive, it was hardly worth the words.

Their foreheads rested together, and Tony felt his grip tighten, even though he was trying to relax it.

"I've got a mission," Clint whispered what was probably his lover's least favorite phrase.

"You didn't last night," Tony replied, though all ready he knew the response.

"You worry enough while I'm gone, it was only one night," Clint said, pressing his mouth to Tony's in a brief kiss.

"Pepper's dinner is tonight, she's going to be mad you're missing it," Tony said, savoring everything he can before they are forced apart. The smell of Clint's aftershave, his body pressed up against him, all he can remember later the better.

"Why do you think I picked the mission overseas? She's way scary than anything over there," Clint chuckled at the end, making Tony laugh as well.

"Good choice," Stark replied, trying to keep his breathing smooth and calm, able to get through this first rush of panic of 'no, mine, must keep safe' that came from hearing that phrase.

"Should be about two weeks," Clint said, soothing the tense muscles in Tony's shoulders. "Maybe three if the intel is wrong, which knowing them..." he trailed off when the grip on his waist tightened.

"I love you," Tony said, needing the words to keep him sane. This was the hardest part for them, but they had gotten better at it, better at handling the initial separation so they could both focus when they couldn't be close.

Clint pressed closer, mouth moving to Tony's ear so there wouldn't be any mix up about his response.

"I'll tell you when I come home," he promised, and then pulled himself away, no last kiss, no lingering, just a quick removable from the man he loved, before over to his duffel, and then down the hall to the elevator.

The sudden emptiness stung, but Tony could hold onto the promise that Clint had made, knowing that come hell or high water, nothing would keep the archer from coming home to return those three words to his lover.

It was a promise; fragile and weak and out of both of their controls. But the only promise they could make to each other.

Even if it is a promise that can be broken.

Day 7

One week passed, and Tony barely felt it. Well, that was a lie. He felt it, but the separation was still new, so he was able to hide it, coat it with sarcasm and smirks so it couldn't eat at him.

The others held this time close, keeping things light and funny, so none of them had to worry...much. Natasha made pancakes to tempt Tony away from the lab in the morning, and Bruce stuck by his side through the occasional long night, guiding the Man of Iron to bed whenever he could manage. Thor and Cap kept movies playing, and dinners ready to draw Tony out into the group so they could help carry the stress. Coulson would stop by with whatever he could report, and the news that Clint was still on mission and intel was still good kept the first week well within the boundaries of Tony's stress range.

Day 14

Natasha is called out, short mission, just to help relocate a lower asset who was having some issues. She had been the one to bring him in, so she had felt obligated. Steve went out of state to an orphanage that had requested him visit. It brought them down to three in house Avengers, and only two who could attempt to keep Tony busy.

Despite the loss of support, Bruce stepped up admirably, keeping Tony hip deep in science and engineering problems. They barely rested, but Tony would force them to break so Bruce could meditate a bit. He wasn't so lost in his own mind to not see the others still needed some attention.

It was easy, that week, because Tony could let himself begin to hope that at any moment, Clint would show up, wrapping him up from behind to fulfill his long awaited promise. He knew better than to really hope, but sometimes Stark couldn't help it, that promise held more comfort for him than any other thing in the world.

Day 21

Time started to feel longer as week two eased into week three. Natasha came back, safe and sound, and Steve returned after a long weekend spent playing hero with kids and exploring whatever state that he had gone off to.

Each morning, though, they found themselves settling into a silence that began to creep over them as though it held its own place in the house. Without intel, they were all just giving empty reassurances, that none of them liked to hear, so instead they would ask if there was any news, then the response of 'nothing so far' was given and they all went on their way.

Tony wouldn't admit that he started sleeping on the couch in his and Clint's floor. It was easier having the back of the couch pressed against him than to be spread out with nothing on either side. Sleep though, was futile most nights. He tried, for the sake of not looking like a deranged lunatic when Clint got home, but he never claimed to be good at taking care of himself.

The news from Coulson stopped coming about day 18. He said that there were some slight miscalculations and that he would let them know something soon. But he seemed to disappear onto the Helicarrier without another word.

Day 23

Pepper comes and takes Tony out, remarking how much that Clint hates when Tony holes himself up while the archer is gone. She drags him to a movie and then dinner, talking through his silences about the company and everything else going on in the world that Tony rarely had an interest in, but wanted to know now so his brain had something to focus on.

He kissed her cheek goodnight, grateful for both her company and the wine to send him to bed for some rest. Tumbling to the couch, Tony looked to his ceiling and sighed.

"Jarvis? Play me something?" he asked, not sure he could request something at the moment.

"Of course, sir," came the instant reply. Classic rock comes on, quietly over the speaker. It was one of the songs Clint had infected the AI with, who had been more than happy to have something other than Tony's music to experience. They had bonded, oddly enough, over new and exciting music choices. Some deliberately chosen to harass the shit out of Tony, but done with so much laughter that he could hardly begrudge Clint and Jarvis their fun.

Tony replayed their recent last moments together over in his mind. He could recall it with the clarity that he couldn't with even what he had for dinner just hours prior. His mind, somehow, had cleared out a space for all things Clint Barton related, allowing the archer a piece of his mind when no other lover could hold such a claim. It was one of the things that told the genius that this relationship was the one he was meant to be in.

Letting the day-days? he's not sure-exhaustion pull on him like an anchor, Tony slipped asleep and into the peace it provided.

Day 27

The tone of the Avengers Tower somehow held between desperate panic and resolved determination that things were fine. The light tone they had been trying to hold onto was long gone and a sickening tension had taken its place.

Dr. Banner remains in his own lab, meditating for several hours in the early morning hours. His division between himself and the Hulk weakened when they both could feel that something was very wrong.

Cap and Natasha spent the morning talking, quietly over coffee. They tried to steer the conversation around their decidedly late friend, but when the famous Black Widow glanced over at Clint's box of Cocoa Puffs, and tensed up to the point where it seemed she was holding back tears. Steve reached out and took her hand, letting her squeeze it as hard as she could until things were back under her complete control.

"He'll be fine, Natasha," he said, lowly. She nodded, and forced a smile.

Tony stuck to a schedule, keeping his mind from wandering he had learned a long time ago, meant to keep it busy. He completely reconstructed his Iron Man suit, twice. Adding in features that would help him stay safe and fight better over the course of a battle.

He struggled with reflection technology to make the suit stealth, and back up thrusters to help with maneuvering. It didn't matter that some of them failed to be incorporated correctly and caused a scorch mark over the entrance way or that he ended up blinding some of his own sensors with the stealth, ending with him thrown across the room crashing into a wall.

It only mattered that he didn't have to think about his lover being gone longer than thought or the heavy pit that had taken up residence in his stomach.

There is no news from Coulson.

Day 29

Hands settle on his shoulder causing Tony to jerk awake, panic flooding his body, hope rising into his throat, as he turns to see...Steve giving him a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Jesus, Cap, give the arc reactor a heart attack why don't you?" Tony said, tapping the light in his chest, as he caught his breath. He tries to make light of it, but he knows there is an edge to his voice that he hasn't been able to shake.

"Sorry," Rogers says, but doesn't remove his hands. Instead, one hands seems to be trying to soothe Tony, making the ex-playboy pause and look again.

"What's-"

"Coulson's here," Steve cuts him off. His tone stern and gentle and _hollow_. "He says there is something we should see...together."

The group of Avengers, though one short, are settled into the living room area, Coulson sitting to one side of the large L-shaped couch. Thor must have been working out, still in a large grey shirt and sweatpants as he sits in the far corner. Natasha and Bruce sit close together, her hand resting between both of his. They contrast, with her fiery red hair and tight black outfit, and Banner's barely held up trousers and obviously-slept-in button down shirt. Tony's eyes slide over Coulson, taking him in, and finds nothing comforting in seeing the legendary Phil Coulson is in what appears at least three days old suit, no longer firm pressed, now a hopeless mess of wrinkles and questionable stains. His eyes red, almost bloodshot, circled with dark rings.

"What's this about? I've got Mark 38 stewing around with only Dummy and You to look after it," Tony says, it sounds harsher than he means, but with the sudden way he feels like he might vomit, he doesn't find sympathy forthcoming.

"Sit, please, Tony," Phil sounds somehow worst than Tony, and there is no quip or patent Coulson look and Tony knows, god he _knows_, that these are the last moments before something bad happens.

Steve guides the engineer around, setting him between Thor and himself, and there is something almost screaming in Tony's throat when _Thor's_ hand shakes as he reaches out to grasp Stark's.

He doesn't want this to happen. 'Please anything but this,' Tony thinks, sending pleading eyes to Steve, who takes his other hand in a nearly too tight grip, before nodding to Coulson.

"This was taken off a surveillance camera in Turkey four days ago," Coulson says, clearing his throat before pressing play on a remote.

A rooftop appears, and it's clear than something is going on. Five men seem to be trying to beat up a sixth. For a moment, Tony doesn't even realize it's Clint as the sixth man, until he wields his bow as only the archer could.

The men are take a beating, but seem to be keep coming, until Clint manages to get up on the ledge and draw an arrow. He nocks it in half a second before releasing into the closest man. The man goes down, arrow his throat as he tumbles over the edge of the building.

There are only two arrows left in Clint's quiver, Tony notes, as he draws another only to have it swiped from his hand by a blow from one of the remaining thugs. Clint's too much of a professional to even stop, he grabs hold of the man before turning him and throwing him into another who had just gotten on the ledge with him. They both go tumbling off the edge.

The remaining two men are quick, delivering punches and kicks, getting their hands on Clint and dragging him down onto the rooftop.

One sends a roundhouse kick into Clint's ribs that has Natasha hissing over. They watch as he doubles over for a moment before pushing away another kick, and jamming his hand into the closest man's throat. He goes down, gasping and holding his throat.

An explosion happens nearby, debris comes flying at them, and there is a fine shake as the building seems to be giving away under them.

The last man, noting as Clint scrambled for his nearby bow, that he had no other support, dives for a gun that had been kicked away by Clint earlier. He raised it, as Clint leveled his bow and notched arrow at him.

They stand off, the man talking to Clint, who moves around, his back now to the camera, causing the man to get up on the ledge to stay even.

It is clear that Clint says something back, because the man hesitates, gun in his hand begins to shake. The man pulls the trigger, but nothing happens, he seems to be pulling it again and again, but no more bullets. Without another word, Clint lets the arrow fly, it reaching its mark, embedding itself in the man's chest as the man himself goes flying back off the ledge.

There is almost an overwhelming sense of relief for Tony, to see the last of the men gone, and Clint safe. Until he almost shoots out of his seat when an arrow comes flying out of nowhere, sinking into Clint's shoulder causing the young man to go down on the concrete.

Tony hears a loud cry, and hadn't realized there was sound, until it sinks in that he was the one to make that sound.

But that doesn't matter because he can see Clint screaming, crying out in pain as the arrow has gone through the very top of his shoulder where it joins to his neck and is sticking out the back. It's a bad shot, about an inch higher, it probably would have missed Barton altogether. He curls around his left arm, defensively, staying down as another arrow flies, tearing through his semi-exposed right shoulder, before embedding itself in something off screen.

Another explosion shakes the picture and it flickers a moment before returning to the rooftop where Clint is bleeding onto the concrete. He looks in the direction that the arrow came, probably checking for more, before reaching down with his right hand to unstrap his knife that's on his thigh. It's a large knife, one he keeps for desperate times. Tony doesn't understand why he needs it.

"Tony, maybe you should look away," Steve speaks lowly, and Tony wants to ask why, why he needs to. Until he sees Clint raise the knife and cut deeply through his vest into his skin.

Tears slip down Tony's face, watching as Clint's mouth opens probably for the loudest scream he can manage, his body contorted in agony and pain. There is a weak sound down the couch, and Tony glances over to see Bruce almost crushing his face into Natasha's shoulder. She also seems to be crying, as she stares at the screen in horror. There is nothing to say to comfort either of them, so Stark's eyes go back to the screen.

He's in time to see his lover pull the arrow from his shoulder, tissue ripping away as it clings to the arrow while the Avenger, Hawkeye, sobs in pain.

There seems to be a quickening of pace, as Clint glances off screen as another explosion shakes the camera so hard it fuzzes out before snapping back to picture. He's shaking, visible even in the grainy video quality, but he gets his hands on his bow, putting it in his near-useless hand before notching the bloodied arrow.

A moment passes, and Clint almost seems to be talking to himself, mouth moving, but it is impossible to tell what's being said. There's blood almost pooling out behind Clint's shoulder, but he doesn't seem to care. Instead, his expression hardens, like he does when he sees a target that is trying to get away. Normally, it is a look that Stark appreciates, he likes watching that deadly focus get a hardened edge, a dangerous edge.

This time it makes Tony's stomach clench in pain as Clint pushes himself to his feet, obviously gritting through pain, as he raises the bow and arrow, injured shoulder shakes, lowers slightly before he obviously forces it up again. A bare second passes before the arrow goes flying.

No arrows fire back.

Still it seems the nightmare will not end, because just as the SHIELD agent seems to realize it is over, the building shakes again, this time pieces of the building begin to collapse, cracks in the rooftop spread, and Tony watches Clint struggle to stay upright.

His head swivels, as he tries to find an escape path. There is obviously only a second left before the building's destroyed under his feet. He catches sight of the camera, before backing up, to the ledge. His gaze locks onto the camera and he says something. The rooftop sways, like a drunken woman, until a last explosion sends up a wall of debris. Clint flies back from the force, falling off of the building as it crumples into pieces.

The picture violently scrambles and then goes black.

Someone's crying, Tony notes blankly in his mind, and squeezing his hand too hard. It's really disconcerting, the crying, he's not use to people sobbing and crying around him. He takes pains to avoid things like that.

"Where is he?" Natasha's voice sounds so far away, but Tony knows she just on the other side of Steve, how is her voice so distant...

"We haven't recovered a body, yet. The explosion triggered the forward building to also collapse. It's estimated 42 injured, 15 dead, including..." Phil doesn't say who, but Tony can't pretend to not know what he isn't saying, despite wishing it.

His head feels funny, like the kind of haze he gets from being awake too long or when he hasn't eaten anything but booze for a while. He wants to stand, so he levers himself up, not even noticing when Steve stands with him, hand coming to grip an elbow, the other hand still holding Tony's.

Eyes are on him, at least Thor's and Coulson's, and all Tony can think is how he wants to make a joke about Steve holding his hand, but nothing comes to mind.

Instead, Tony pulls his hand from Steve's and walk out of the room. He isn't sure where he is going, only that as he leaves, he ignores the calls after him.

Day 30

Tony isn't surprised to find himself in his own bed, completely alone in the dark, when he wakes again. His red comforter's twisted around his body, the way it got when he slept alone. It's cool inside the room, or maybe it is just Tony. What did surprise him, though, was that he had no idea what he was doing in his bed.

"Jarvis? How did I..." he wasn't even sure what he was asking.

"Captain Rogers brought you down from the roof at my request at one-thirteen this morning," Jarvis replied. Thank fuck for AIs, Tony thought.

"What time-"

"It is two twenty-eight in the afternoon, sir," Jarvis said. And okay that was weird, even though Jarvis knew what he was going to ask, he never interrupted Tony before.

"Jarvis, is something..." well, that was just a dumb question, everything is wrong and just because for a second the world didn't feel crushing and he could breath-oh god the _roof_. He had been hiding in Clint's perch.

Suddenly the day before comes sharply back into contrast, and Tony makes a mad scramble for the bathroom. He isn't sure what he was vomiting up, and really nothing comes up, he hadn't eaten in probably over twenty-four hours. Still acid tastes like acid and when he felt like he could move again he rinses the aftertaste out with as much water from the sink as he can stand.

His legs don't hold him upright Tony finds when he tries to stand from the hunched-over-the-sink position he had been in. Instead, he lets himself crawl his way back to the bed.

"Sir, if you would like I can have Captain Rogers return to your room," Jarvis suggests, in a way that Tony feels is a lot like _pity_.

"I want Clint, Jarvis, you got him on standby? No? Then shut the hell up," Tony said, pulling himself under the comforter and curling it around himself. He wills himself to not cry.

There is no response.

Day 31

"Sir, Ms Potts is requesting entrance into your bedroom," Jarvis says, breaking the borderline psychotic staring at the window Tony had going on.

"No," he said, "tell her to go away."

"Sir, Colonel Rhodes is calling to speak with you, shall I put him through?" Jarvis asks.

"No, end call." Tony rolls over and pulls the blanket over his head.

"Sir, Captain Rogers wishes to enter your suite, may I grant him access?" Jarvis' voice has a soft tone and Tony can't help but growl in frustration.

"_No_! Fuck off Steve!"

When he wakes again, Tony finds Natasha lying next to him, under the covers with her eyes red and puffy staring into him.

"Are you going to stay here forever?" she asks, her voice soft and almost child-like. A weariness settles over him and into his bones.

"Yes," he says, because that's what he wants. He never wants to leave. Part of him waiting for Clint to come to bed.

"May I stay with you?" she asks, tears brimming over the edges. Her whole demeanor opposite to what Tony is use to. He expects Black Widow, Natalie Rushman, a confident superior woman capable of handling aliens in New York City without batting an eye, instead he finds himself cornered with a little girl, heartbroken and in pain.

"Yes," he chokes on the word.

She frowns, the lines of her mouth quivering slightly, as tears slip down her face and over her nose, running sideways across her face, toward the bed. Natasha reaches out, and Tony can't help but take her hand.

"Thank you," she whispers, eyes closing briefly as she grips his hand tight. "I don't want to be alone."

Tony doesn't think he's tired, but sleep claims him anyway.

Day 32

"I want to watch it again," Tony says, when he sees the sun break the horizon out his bedroom window.

"Why?" Natasha asks, still there, curled up in a ball next to him. Her black outfit, the same one from days prior, severely stretched out and Tony knows he hasn't changed since then. Frankly, they're a mess.

"Because I want to see him," Tony says simply.

"There are other recordings, Tony, we can watch Christmas or a birthday or..." The tears in her eyes stain her face again.

"I need to watch it again," he states, in a quiet way, grateful for the numbness that has set in that might mean he can survive the day.

She must see something in him, because she doesn't divert again. Leaning up, she only nods. "Okay, let's go," she says.

When they leave his bedroom, Tony has a fear that all of the others will be waiting for him, and he flinches each time they walk through a doorway. If Nat notices, she doesn't say.

Of course, he should have realized that Steve wasn't the type of person to let someone kill themselves via mourning, but still swears when he finds Cap sitting on the couch in the living area.

Before Tony can think of a way exiting, of running back to his room, Natasha puts an arm around him and guides him to the couch next to Steve.

"Thor is in with Bruce, will you take over for him? I don't think either of them have slept since the day before yesterday," Steve says, careful to not touch Tony when he sits, like he's afraid Tony will break if he does.

Natasha nods.

"You're leaving?" Tony asks, not caring how it sounds.

She looks at him before glancing at the television. "I can't," she states, and it's as simple as that.

He nods, and watches her walk from the room.

"Are you sure you want to do this Tony?" Steve asks, there's pain in his voice, that yeah, Stark hadn't noticed before, but he still didn't know how to deal with it now.

"I'm sure," he says.

The video comes up as less of surprise this time. The men move in ways that Tony all ready anticipates. He doesn't flinch when the kick to Clint's ribs comes, or when the man starts trying to shoot the empty gun.

Tony doesn't even allow himself to blink when the arrow sends his lover to the ground. The pain of seeing the raised knife, barely registers, because he knows worse things are still to come. God, he thinks, how numb am I that I can't feel it anymore?

On screen, Clint's talking to himself again, like he has to talk himself into it. And he probably is having trouble getting up, Tony figures. He doesn't think he would have that kind of willpower, to get up after being that injured. But Clint does. He gets up, shooting off the arrow, and when nothing comes back, it is clear that he's won.

The panic this time does hits home, when Tony watches his lover search for an exit, for something, for _anything._ Tears come again, as he watches him get up on the ledge, this time noticing the shaky legs Clint tries to hide. He doesn't know how much is from blood loss or fear.

He stands there, looking to the camera, and Stark can tell everything this time that is running through Hawkeye's mind. There's fear, and panic, and pain, and resignation.

_Like he knows he is about to die._ The thought makes Tony's stomach clench and his throat dry up. He wants to go back to bed.

Then, still staring down the camera, Clint says something, and absolute fear floods Tony. He stands.

"Jarvis, freeze, rewind four seconds," Tony says, unaware of Steve standing, and moving around the coffee table with his friend.

"What is it?" Steve asks.

When the screen goes back to just before Clint speaks, Tony steps closer. "Play, half speed."

Clint's mouth moves slowly, in an achingly familiar way, but Tony still has trouble making out the words.

"Enhance frames for this section," Tony says, still ignoring the way Steve looks back and forth between the screen and Stark.

"Enhanced, sir," Jarvis says, and pulls up a new video of the time it takes Clint to speak, this time, clearer and better quality.

"Play again, normal speed," he requests, and it plays again. Clint's mouth moving seems so, _so, _familiar. It boggles the genius' mind to still not understand.

"Loop, Jarvis, continuous play," Tony says, determined to figure this out. It plays over and over, stilted as it resets and abrupt when it ends.

Unknown amount of times passes, before Steve tenses, and whispers, "Oh, god."

Ignoring Cap, Stark focuses on those lips, watching them repeat those words, he knows this goddamn it.

And then it hits him, like a punch to the chest from _Thor_. He knows what Clint is saying. Tony's face hardens, and anger floods his veins. A sort of blur comes over his vision, and for a moment he loses control.

Reaching up, Tony screams as he tears the television partially from the wall.

"NO! _NO_! You promised!" he cries, his voice hoarse and strange. Steve immediately tries to stop him, but shoving Cap away, Tony scrambles away. He picks up a side table swinging it into the window, causing it to crack a bit.

"Tony! Stop!" Steve shouts, trying to grab the table, but afraid he'll hurt Tony more.

"YOU _PROMISED_!" he screams, swinging again breaking the window and sending the table out through.

Wind rushes through the room, sending an uproar of commotion, but Tony Stark turns away, marching over to bookcase, holding some odds and ends, random picture frames that had been put up to personalize the room when they had moved in. With a cry, he reaches up, pulling the bookcase over, everything coming off of it with a crash.

"Tony!" Steve cries, tears are on his face, when his teammate looks up from his disaster path.

The anger fades so fast that it feel like someone has taken his strength. He stumbles, moving around the bookcase, flinching when he steps on a picture frame and it cracks under his foot. Stepping back he looks down and sinks to his knees.

It's an old picture, at least a two years, back when things between him and Clint were still beginning, still fresh and new. They are sitting at a sushi restaurant, Tasha's favorite. It's her birthday too, if Tony recalls correctly. He's looking right at the camera, perfect smirk in place, but Clint's looking at him. Even then there is a sense of just how deep the archer really feels. He's smiling, but it's softer, private, not for the camera. It is for Tony.

Crying feels like too much work, but his tears don't seem to mind, rolling down his face, then ducking sharply under his chin and traveling down his neck. He sits, holding the picture rubbing his thumb over Clint's face, wondering how long before he'll be able to breathe again.

The television hanging by a last bracket and some wires, plays the loop on. Clint saying 'I love you' over and over...and over.

Day 33

No body has been recovered. SHIELD wants to bury a coffin for Clint Barton anyway.

Steve argues for waiting, for knowing definitely before having a funeral. He shouts, loud enough to be heard down the hall, in Fury's office, stating they should be out there in case Clint's still alive, that all of the Avengers should be out in force to get him back, even if it is just his body.

Even Nick Fury can't fight against Captain America about this, especially when the nation's icon is practically growling as he shouts. So he authorizes them to go to the area, help with clean-up, do whatever they need to do to bring Hawkeye home.

Tony wants to refuse, but he's numb and Bruce looks like he's barely holding Hulk back, so he goes. He can only hope it will close things for them. That the others might be able to move on.

They board a Quinjet, Tony bringing the suit, but not flying it. No on comments he would be able to get there quicker than the jet. Instead Tony sits with Bruce, letting him hold his hand as he breathes slowly and meditative the whole trip.

No one talks about how much of a mess they are. No one says that Natasha looks like a fragile china doll or Thor's pale skin makes him look ill. They don't speak. The entire trip is spent listening to Bruce's slow breathing. And not talking.

Day 34

The wreckage sets Tony's nerves on fire and the urge to dig into the debris and search until his fingers bleed is strong enough he can taste it.

Instead, he stays at the hotel they are set up in. Bruce stays with him, unable to do much but breathe most of the time. Every little thing that irks him makes the dividing line between him and the Hulk seem thinner.

"He won't settle," Bruce explains, after the bellhop sending up the wrong tea nearly threatens all of their safety. "I mean, he usually wants out, but this, this is worst than normal. Nothing seems to calm him. There's no solace to offer when he doesn't understand what has happened."

"There's no solace even if he did," Tony says, knowing he sounds cruel, but he can't care.

"Tony-"

"I'm going to lie down," Tony interrupts, leaving Bruce sitting there watching the retreating man's back.

Natasha joins him in bed that night. No words, just slips in when he's awake trying to stare a hole in the ceiling. She curls up under the covers, not touching him, but near enough he can feel her warmth.

His gaze meets hers, in the dark, and they lay there, not sleeping, but not alone.

Day 35

Several people are removed from the injured list after the gas explosion that had caused two buildings to crumble ten days prior, the television reports. Many have been recovered, a total of 18 confirmed dead, with 10 still in the hospital...the news moves on to local weather.

Tony exits his room, quietly, hoping to grab some coffee and go back to bed. The scene before him, causes him to stop though.

Steve and Natasha sit on the couch, facing each other. There's a bowl of water next to her, and she dips a cloth into it, rinsing what looks like blood before taking Steve's hand and wiping at the cuts all over his hands.

"You can't keep doing this," she says, voice soft as she picks up antiseptic to apply to the wounds.

"I promised I would find him, Tasha," Steve says, gentle but strong. "I'll bring him home."

She looks at him, a sad smile gracing her features, as a thin tear rolls down her cheek. Steve uses his free hand to wipe it away, smiling when she leans into his touch.

Coffee damned, Tony goes back into his room, curling up in the sheets and pretends Clint's there, stroking his hair until sleep takes him.

Thor comes in at some point, leaving a tray of food on the bed for Tony. He smiles when it wakes the engineer, and tells him that Natasha is going to visit the injured in the hospital if Tony would like to go.

He nods, not sure what he's agreeing to and slips back unconscious, with Clint's fingers curled around his.

Day 36

It's raining when Natasha drags him to the hospital to visit the injured. Down-pouring like the sky had been saving every ounce of rain for the one time Tony had stumbled outside of their hotel since they had arrived. It's the first time he has put on real clothes in days, and his jeans don't feel familiar anymore.

The hospital is really the best in the country, shining glass and large doors. Tony thinks it's awful. He's always hated hospitals, since he was teen and forced to id his parents in a hospital morgue. They're full of sick people and desperation to fight against death itself.

When they arrive, Natasha tells him the truth she had not told the others. The bodies that haven't been claimed from the explosion are at the hospital. She has asked to view each body and make sure Clint isn't among them.

Tony almost vomits at the idea of going to the morgue, but she rushes to reassure that he can sit in the cafeteria while she visits the dead. She just wanted him there, in case she needed help getting back to the hotel.

It seems acceptable, so he agrees, and watches her go off.

An hour later, Tony is bored. He's not comfortable staying in the cafeteria any longer, mostly because people are staring. It isn't the ideal place to leave him, and he's never felt like the type to obey orders.

So he wanders and watches. People rush about, doctors, nurses, whoever. They all seem like they have some place to be, lives to save. It's nice to see, he thinks. All these people caring so badly to save lives. They all know what it is to put others first. It eases the burden that he knows the Avengers share, the weight of the world and all the lives in rest on them most days. He's grateful to see others carrying the burden where they cannot be.

The halls blur as he walks. Several times, he has to flatten against the walls to avoid being mowed down by a gurney being rushed somewhere.

"Sir? Are you supposed to be here?" a tiny woman asks him, and he blinks in surprise.

"What?" he asks, looking at her to repeat the question.

"Oh, good you do speak English. I was asking if you are supposed to be on this level? You look lost," she says, smiling kindly.

Frantic, he looks around, spying a room with the door ajar, he nods and points to it. "Yes, this is where I needed to be."

She frowns and shakes her head. "I'm not sure that's-"

"Nope, this is where I should be, thank you," he says, and darts inside, closing the door and resting his head on it.

He sighs, and wonders how long he should wait before going back out. Nurses don't usually linger, so he might be good after a few sec- someone sighs from the bed, and Tony freezes.

Fuck, he thinks, now he's intruded on some sick person. He turns, an apology on his lips when his eyes fall on the bed and all thoughts vanish from his mind.

Bandages cover his torso, an obvious one wrapped around his shoulder. One leg is up in a cast, and one arm also has a cast on it. Bruises litter exposed skin, along with some partially healed cuts. His left eye's purple and black and his nose has a cut across the bridge that is starting to heal.

Kindly put, Tony finds Clint Barton in a state of beat up and bruised he has never seen before. And he has also never seen such a wonderful sight.

Pressing the panic button on his cell phone, Tony goes to Clint's side, and drops to his knees. He takes up the calloused, slightly skinned hand of his lover and vows to never let go.

Natasha is there in less than two minutes. She bursts into the room, gun drawn. Upon seeing Clint, she drops it and swears heavily in Russian.

Steve, Thor, and Bruce are barely five minutes behind her, but she hasn't moved. They burst in, clearly looking for a fight, but when they all look to Clint's battered, broken form, it drains the fight from them.

Then Bruce starts laughing. He laughs and laughs until tears stream down his face. Natasha joins in, launching herself at Steve, who catches her in a fierce hug, they both laugh and cry. Thor laughs, and looks to Tony, who smiles up at the god of thunder.

All their noise draws the attention of a doctor, who, once they have explained who Clint is, explains that their rejoicing should be kept at a lower level due to the patients.

He also, explains that Clint has been in a coma since the day of the explosion, but that Clint hadn't been recovered on site. The force of the explosion had caused him to fly onto the top of a passing truck. When the truck had made a turn, Clint had tumbled from the top, onto a cafe table. An ambulance had been called immediately.

The coma, he says, hasn't shown signs of improvement, but that may change with the people he cares about there with him now.

Fury and Coulson arrive within the day, both coming to see for themselves the archer still alive. A rare smile breaks over the Director's face. And Coulson sheds several tears, half-hidden by hugging Natasha.

They load Clint onto transport that night, and by day 37, he is back in NYC.

One month later, well thirty-one days, Hawkeye wakes from his coma.

His first words to Tony are 'I love you'.


End file.
